Knots
by Sky Samuelle
Summary: A conversation between Severus & Lily the summer before their friendship ends evidences his inner conflicts and unresolved feelings for the redhaired witch. Oneshot.


**Knots**

**Author: Sky Samuelle**

**Summary: A conversation between Severus & Lily the summer before their friendship ends evidences **his **inner conflicts and unresolved feelings for the red-haired witch. **

**July 1974, Spinner's End**

"Narcissa Black? Why would _she_ write to you during _summer_?"

Lily could not refrain from wrinkling her nose in distaste while Erebus, Severus' dark-plumed, shabby looking Royal Owl, patiently allowed her to disrespectfully ruffle the feathers on his head the way she enjoyed doing so often.

When Severus raised his eyes from the missive he held carefully in his long-fingered hands to send her a tempestuous glare, the red-haired girl was altogether sure he had misunderstood her.

Like there was a chance in hell she would ever think her best friend from the age of eight years old wasn't good enough for the likes of Narcissa Black: a snobbish, gossiping air-headed….

"Care to explain why she shouldn't?" he questioned, with a slightly petulant edge that reminded Lily of her sister Petunia whenever she tried to turn their family discussions away from the M-word.

Rolling her eyes, Lily wondered how someone so smart could be so daft at the same time.

"Come on, Sev, it's not so difficult to guess! She's practically the poster-child for glamorous superficiality, and you…you're the perfect picture of scruffy genius. I can't imagine the two of you holding a conversation for more than five minutes, let alone maintaining a correspondence."

Sev's high cheekbones flushed intensely as he looked down quickly, turning the lavender envelope self-consciously between his fingers. "She writes to me about pureblood etiquette," he admitted, his discomfort evident enough to spur Lily to hide her surprise.

"Why?"

"I asked her to and she accepted. Graciously. She's nothing like Bellatrix."

Personally, Lily believed that wasn't much of a compliment, considering Bellatrix's malice was of a unique, inimitable brand. "Severus, you are the most educated _and_ polite male I know, and I'm including my father in the list. What would you need etiquette lessons for ? Eileen is a pureblood too…."

Not to mention last summer he had forced her to go through an intensive reading with him of "Aradia: ancient customs and traditions of Wizarding Italy" and "Gipsy Seasonal Cycles: A Secret Esoteric Practice of Russian Purebloods". What else there was to learn?

Her friend leaned back in his seat, a thoughtful and slightly defeated expression on his face. "A fairly large part of pureblood tradition is conserved jealously within the single families and passed down from generation to generation. There are things…my mother doesn't talk about without regret. Her family cut her off when she agreed to marry my father, and look how it turned out then…he rejected her ever since she confessed to him what she was."

Feeling a lump in her throat, Lily wondered if his refusal to question Eileen was aimed at protecting the older woman from her bouts of depression or himself from the raging certainty that he was one of her regrets.

Saddened, she laid her open hand inches away from his, knowing a more physical contact would upset him rather than comfort him. After all these years, it was still difficult for him to distinguish genuine affection from pity.

_I'm not a victim, so don't pity me. _It had been his motto until she had learnt to be more subtle in her manifestation of solidarity.

She observed Severus gazing down at their hands, so close on the wooden surface of his kitchen table, and when he looked up again and their eyes met, her heart skipped a beat. It wasn't easy to get used to his penetrating gaze, especially if he wore a soft, would-be smiling expression like the one that was on his lips right now. He had a unsettling intensity for a boy of his age.

Unbidden, a rather vivid memory popped into her head: the image of Severus helping Narcissa Black out of their carriage at the end of this school year. It was the first time she and Sev had not gone to the station together. He had told her he would see her on the train, all eager and contented because his housemates had offered him a seat in their carriage. It seemed his popularity in Slytherin House had risen after he had revealed his talent for writing final essays for every paying second-year and third-year in his house (and even a few Hufflepuffs). Severus didn't seem to care that the only aim of the companionship offered by his new allies was to exploit his knowledge.

_They're using you._

_All kinds of social interactions are motivated by mutual self-interest, Lily. You meet someone and then you keep cultivating each other to gain amusement, romance, or money._

_Oh, very intriguing perspective, Sev. So what are you cultivating me for?_

_You know you're different._

Was she really?

"Narcissa is very precise. You'll see, soon I'll be able to pass for a pureblooded wizard," he commented proudly, as if he could think of nothing better than dispatching the old Severus and creating a completely new one in his place. Lily would never understand what was wrong with the original version; with his intelligence and determination, his imaginative creativity, he could do so much good if only he would stop hanging around those dreadful persons who pretended to accept him just to put him down. In a few years Severus would leave the Marauders in the dust, where they belonged– how could he not see it?

"So, why is she so collaborative?"

Purebloods were a territorial lot when it came to their customs, and Slytherins in general very rarely (she would say never, but she tried not to be prejudiced) did nothing for nothing.

"We worked on a common goal this year."

She had no idea what this meant, but there was a finality in that cryptic explanation which did not invite further questioning.

"You like her, don't you?"

It was really strange to think about, Narcissa Black and Severus Snape. Her friend Severus Snape, so mature and witty, interested in a girl so—well, blonde and willowy, but insipid! Yet, just because Lily had yet to develop much curiosity about the opposite sex and Sev wasn't a lout, like Potter and Black, didn't mean her childhood friend could not fancy anyone.

"She's the only Black I know who can occasionally hold a decent conversation."

Was he pointedly avoiding answering her?

"Do you fancy her or not ?"

The question blurted out of her mouth sounding completely wrong, blunt and graceless. You would have thought, hanging around Severus Snape as much as she did, that a certain Lily Evans would have learned at least one or two things about subtlety, but no. In every single serious discussion they had ever had, she showed about as much refinement as Peter Pettigrew on a good day.

"Huh?"

But the expression on Severus' face just then made it totally worthwhile: he was staring at her as if she had suddenly sprouted two heads and one of them resembled a mandrake root.

"Well?" she insisted, biting her bottom lip so as not to ruin the moment by breaking out in a wide smile.

"Narcissa has been betrothed to Lucius since before they were born. Literally. Do I look suicidal to you?"

"Ah! You don't need to be – it's socially acceptable to be sweet on her."

Severus snorted, clearly disproving THAT theory. "Being in Gryffindor is truly beginning to ruin you. It's interesting to notice that in spite of your indubitable intellect, you can't see a boy in any kind of interaction with a girl whatsoever without imagining a tragic romance. Next thing you know, you'll be calling Erica Brown your best friend. "

"Nah, that seat is already taken. Seemingly by someone who is NOT interested in Narcissa Black."

Amused, her tall, lanky friend raised his hands in mock surrender. "I swear I'm not. Not in a romantic sense, anyway."

But perhaps he was denying it a bit too much…it wasn't as if Narcissa was ugly. To tell the truth, if it weren't for that constantly pinched grimace on her visage, she could probably pass for the prettiest among the Black sisters.

"Do you really not find her attractive at all?"

Severus shrugged. "Well, I suppose she's not ugly…I might fancy her if I liked the delicate, insubstantial type."

Lily relaxed a bit at that. She couldn't imagine Sev describing someone in such a way who had truly caught his eye.

"So, if she's not your type, who is?"

"No business of yours. Can we get back to our potion essay now?"

"You're no fun."

But it was too warm to study today and as Lily tried to mentally organize her writing, her memory came back to that carriage scene: weird, but this time it wasn't so difficult to imagine Sev with an inconsistent beauty like Narcissa rather than an outspoken Gryffindor like herself. He had aspirations of glory and power…of a respected name. His ideal woman would certainly be well-bred, ethereal looking…of pure birth and complicated mind. A mirror reflection of what he wished to be someday.

For some reason this fantasy – it was only that, after all – bothered her. As if somehow Severus could look at her and consider her lacking by comparison.

But she was his best friend.

_You know you're different, _he had told her.

Always?

END


End file.
